Beautiful Fighters
by ShiroKitsune
Summary: Drabbles, vignettes, and shorts ala ROYAI Roy x Riza. Chapter 6. Proposal Why think when you can feel?
1. Pure Morning

Summary: A series of drabbles, vignettes, and shorts in the ROYAI (Roy x Riza) vein.

Beautiful Fighters: Pure Morning (G)

by ShiroKitsune

In the mornings, the light streamed through the windows of Roy Mustang's office in a most becoming way. Becoming because of the way it fell on the only other person there so early in the morning Riza Hawkeye. The sun made her hair shine and her hair made Roy's hands twitch, wondering if it felt as soft as it looked. Then there was the magic trick that the sun did to her eyes, making them the most inviting amber color. The sun, blessed sun, made her skin glow and her lips seem just a little more flushed with color. The combination of the morning sun and his first lieutenant created a distraction to irresistible to pass up despite the reproaching glances from said lieutenant as his pile of paperwork remained untouched. But it had become routine and he could always blame his supposed vacant stares on a lack of sleep. As long as the weather was nice, and they were the first ones in the office, it was tradition. He would start his mornings with a cup of coffee and some sunshine please. And the weather was good.

Conversely, Roy Mustang hated the rainy mornings. Not just because of his uselessness in the rain. It was honestly something he often forgot on a calm day, and always forgot when his temper was up. It wasn't just that the cold water that seeped his pants' legs and made his ankles wet and his disposition cranky. It wasn't just that the office always seemed stiflingly like a jail cell when it rained. It was because that damned rain hid the sun that highlighted so well the beauty of his first lieutenant and ruined what was quickly becoming Roy's favorite pastime. Roy decided to declare the rainy day his eternal enemy. Arch nemesis thy name is rain.

Riza Hawkeye on the other hand, quite enjoyed the rain with it's calming rhythm and the way it hushed the ambient noises so prevalent on sunny days. It was on rainy mornings that she could find herself just a little more relaxed and unhurried. And she had, from time to time, been found to rest her chin on crossed hands and gaze out the window with a soft smile on her face. The rain gave a certain, mysteriousness to things. A hazy veil around people and places. The rain gave a certain feeling of privacy and calm. Riza was fond of privacy and calm. On rainy mornings she could watch her sulking taisa with little worry of notice. That thought, slipping stealthily through her head, made the lieutenant pause, rest her chin on her hands, and give the rain a soft smile.

Roy watched his first lieutenant, her sweetly curved lips for nearly 20 seconds before deciding that his initial feelings about disliking rainy days may have been unfair. He decided he would gladly sign a document stating that rainy days were also acceptable, providing Riza Hawkeye joined him for them. He would even duplicate the forms if needed.

He wondered how she would sparkle in the snow. But the rain was falling, and the weather was good.

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A/N: First in what I hope to be a good size collection of ROYAIs. Reviews help me know what to fix next time around. All Loves. 

ShiroKitsune


	2. Plastic Lines

Summary: A series of drabbles, vignettes, and shorts in the ROYAI (Roy x Riza) vein.

Plastic Lines – Riza-centric. The mind of an artist is not unknown to Riza on occasion.

Beautiful Fighters: Plastic Lines (PG)  
by ShiroKitsune

First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye is not a person to be mistaken. One would never fancy her to be a poet. Her memos do not flow with lyric prose. The lines are concise and exact. There is no waffling and no uncertainty. There is no hidden love within the words.

Neither is Riza a philosopher. No obscure axioms, no rhetorical questions pepper her writing or her speech. She is not a woman to ask why, or why not. She is a military woman and the military is ordered and neat. No buttons left undone, no stray threads.

The military has formed the woman known as Riza Hawkeye, like a narcissistic god, in its image. She sees the world in terms of usefulness and order. The potted plant by the door, what does it do? Does it obstruct the door? Can it be used as a weapon? Can it be used as cover? These are the thoughts that march through her mind. There is not the artist's questions of the lines of the plant. Does the line of the plant mix well with the doorway? Do the lines of the leaves give the right impression? Are the lines too wild, or too neat?

Those are the thoughts that do not occur to a strictly military mind. Those are the thoughts that rarely trouble a person such as Riza. But sometimes, when the mood hits, the mind of an artist is not so foreign to her. She can find the beauty in the lines and the shape. She has memorized the lines in her own life. Those critical changing lines. The line of her arm, over her wrist, and to the fingers as they reach forward to intersect with the line of Roy's shoulder. The line from her shoulder, to her hip, over the breast, yielding against the line of his back as she leans forward and points to an error on the page. She enjoys the new line, from her fingertip, up her arm, intersecting with his shoulder, to his jaw, cheek, and finally to his calm eye as he follows the line of her hand down. She thinks this new line has promise, aestheticism.

She pulls back though, military enough to know prolonged contact is improper, and the lines separate and distinct. Upon her face there forms a little frown as she studies the line of Roy's shoulders again. The line is not as fluid as she would like, and too much tension pulls his arm. The cords of the neck are taught and harsh. She has lost that sweet aestheticism of moments before.

So she reaches forward, extending the lines of her arms and hands to intersect with his shoulders. She coaxes the lines, her hands massaging the tense muscles. Her mouth opens, encouraging and patient. And he responds like wet clay in her grasp as his head lolls lightly at her touch. The line of his mouth changes too, lifts at both ends, evenly. A smile rather than a smirk. She smiles from behind him where he cannot see and admires her work.

Riza is not a poet, nor philosopher. Sometimes though, when the mood hits, she is an artist and with her words and hands she changes the lines of her world. Sometimes Riza is a sculptor.

Aut Viam Inveniam Aut Faciam  
_Either I Will Find a Way or I Will Make One_

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A/N: There are actually two distinct metaphors contained within this short. I had desired to choose only one or the other to showcase, while the other would never appear again but decided in my selfishness to include both. It occurs.

Also, thank you so far for your reviews. I am grateful for your comments, opinions, and assistance. All Loves until next time. I believe the next installment will be a drabble, or a short, we have yet to arrive at a vignette.


	3. Spasm

Summary: A series of drabbles, vignettes, and shorts in the ROYAI (Roy x Riza) vein.

3. Spasm – The quantification of nebulous feelings seems impossible in times of stress. Mistakes can be made.

A/N: We have achieved drabble… unfortunately our summaries are a obscure as ever.

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Beautiful Fighters: Spasm (G)  
By ShiroKitsune

There is a feeling in her chest; spasms she is too young to associate with anything other than fear. And the fear is there as she knocks her taisa out of the way. She feels nothing as the bullet tears through her own chest. She is too afraid for him to worry about herself.

Later he will sit at her bedside with a strange gripping in his own chest. He is physically fine; the wound is on her body. The image of her fallen and bloody is in his mind. He wonders if should have just taken the bullet instead. As he stares at his chuii, his chest aches miserably with fear. He thinks he is too shaken for it to be anything else.

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A/N: The first drabble for "Beautiful Fighters". Not as sad as it seems on the first pass. All loves.  
P.S: I **HATE** Fanfic dot Net's new formatting. It is impossible! 


	4. Flower Connoisseur

Summary: A series of drabbles, vignettes, and shorts in the ROYAI (Roy x Riza) vein.

4. Flower Connoisseur - Roy Mustang was not an expert in women, as no man could be. But with his knowledge, he realized he could cast light upon one woman.

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Beautiful Fighters: Flower Connoisseur  
by ShiroKitsune

Roy Mustang was not an expert in women. He would never hazard that kind of statement either despite his conquests. Women were too unpredictable to be an expert in. No man could know their inner workings. But he could call himself a buff or perhaps a connoisseur. He was after all very popular, and he did know all of the tricks. Although, sometimes, he wondered if he really ever learned anything at all.

Those little tricks never seemed as effective though when tried on his first lieutenant. She was more inclined to tea over chocolate. Would rather have gun clips than roses. And never gave him an opportunity to open the door for her or pull out her chair. She never outwardly seemed to display those soft touches that women use to make men do their bidding. She had a pair of pistols and a deadly look for that purpose. To be honest, in all his experience with women, Roy had never encountered anyone like her before.

It was driving him crazy.

But now he stood, studying her hand gently holding a blue camellia he just happened to pick up on his way in and wondered if maybe he hadn't learned something after all. Her nails were tapered slightly, not a straight blunt cut. The ridges over the top of the nail had been filed down and buffed. The nail reflected the light overhead in a sinuous wave. It wasn't anything... special. It was not as though the nails were painted, or French-tipped, or bejeweled, or any of the other frivolous things woman did. But those polished nails lightly touching the stem of her flower made Roy smile just a little before he turned away.

He just knew her toenails were pink.

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A/N: The flower given to Riza has a specific meaning in the language of flowers. The meaning for the blue camellia is "You're a flame in my heart." Cheesy, to be sure, but blame it on... something. Anyways, thanks everyone again for the reviews and hope to hear more from you. All Loves. 


	5. Sentimental Letdown

Summary: Drabbles, vignettes, and shorts ala ROYAI (Roy x Riza).  
Chapter 5 – Sentimental Letdown – "A little sentimentality isn't a weakness, chuii."

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Beautiful Fighters: Sentimental Letdown (G)  
by ShiroKitsune

There was a little tree outside of Central's headquarters. A little tree maybe 25 feet high and full of shade. And when the prospect of the noisy cafeteria and equally noisy coworkers seemed more hassle than it was worth, Riza would go to the tree and sit beneath it, contentedly eating her meal. The tree was a bit out of the way, across a rarely mown stretch of lawn. It stood alone and alone she sat in the shadows beneath it.

It was late spring, and sunny. The level of the cafeteria's noise, she decided, would be on par to a zoo at feeding time. So she gathered her lunch and slipped down the halls. There were salutes and polite nods exchanged as she passed down the corridor, down the back stairs, past archives, and out the door farthest back in the building.

She would cross the prickly grasses, seeds sticking to her legs. Then she would stop. She would stop because there was no reason to go any further. She would stop because the tree wasn't there. She could give you no true account of how long she stood on the edge of the field. It could have been seconds, or minutes. Were it not for the soft tread of approaching footsteps that startled her out of her daze, it could have been hours more that she would have stood there.

"Chuii," Roy said. He walked up to stand beside her. Farthest point on the property or not, Roy had followed. She wondered how he knew she was there. The pair stared at the mutilated stump of the tree.

"They cut down your tree," Roy said.

He said 'your' meaning 'her' when he should have said 'the' and when all he wanted was to say 'our.' He had good memories of them beneath that tree. A celebration in the field and a photo of him and her beneath the tree.

Riza said nothing. "We had our picture taken here once too, didn't we?"

"Ah," she agreed.

She shifted her weight backwards as though to go. A hand on her shoulder stopped her. It wasn't heavy or rough, but thoroughly immobile and the weight stilled her even as it made her nervous.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It was just a tree, sir."

There she went, the perfect soldier. Emotionless and precise. The traits that he usually depended on her for now merely made him annoyed. He knew it wasn't just a tree.

Her tree. Our Tree.

"A person is just a mass of tissue and skin without memories. It's the memories that make something."

She stayed silent. Contemplating or ignoring, he couldn't tell.

"A little sentimentality isn't a weakness, chuii."

She remained like a statue and he sighed. His hand still lay on her shoulder. He began to run his thumb in small circles over her shoulder. Just the barest bit of pressure felt through the thick fabric.

"I'm going to miss that tree," she admitted finally in a soft voice. Roy lifted away his hand and put his whole arm over her shoulder instead. He nodded and walked back inside with her.

He never wished before that his alchemy could make things grow too.

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A/N: I swear, I swear I will get to happier stories. Damn slave to cannon!

Current Slice or 'This moment in the life of Shiro Kitsune'

Instructor: Blah, blah, memory, blah blah, database.  
Me (inside my head): Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm trying to think of the right word! I don't want to make a freakin' database!


	6. Proposal

Summary: Drabbles, vignettes, and shorts ala ROYAI (Roy x Riza). Now with Omake!  
Chapter 6 - Proposal - Don't think when you can feel...

Beautiful Fighters: Proposal (G)  
by ShiroKitsune

In retrospect, it was probably not the best way for him to have proposed. She may not have been a romantic, but she was still female. She may not have wanted a hot-air balloon or boat ride proposal. Couldn't he have done it at least with a flower and on a bended knee? Now, lying in her bed, back to back and holding his breath, he felt the first stages of panic begin to set in.  
Oh, why hadn't he waited? It seemed so cheap to ask after their first night together. He didn't think of her like that, she had to know. Yet he had been holding the ring for so long.  
He sighed, "Riza…"  
"Quiet Roy," she said. She was still turned away from him and she pulled the sheet up higher over her bare back.  
"I just… I didn't mean for it to seem like," he trailed off.  
"I'm thinking"  
"About"  
"I'm trying to figure something out," she sounded intent.  
"What"  
"If this is a dream," her voice is soft, musical in a way he's never heard and he knows he'll never forget.  
Then she rolls over, misty-eyed, though she'll never admit it and he'll never make her.  
And he's suddenly glad he's had that ring.


End file.
